


Kronk and Yzma's Kitchen Adventure

by crazykookie



Category: Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazykookie/pseuds/crazykookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kronk and Yzma start a restaurant in the hills of Patagonia, and it becomes famous throughout the land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kronk and Yzma's Kitchen Adventure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wired/gifts).



> I don’t even know who’s point of view this story is from. Well, it’s pretty obvious it’s in 3rd person point of view, so I guess I mean I don’t even know who’s inner-dialog it is. In any case, read it and weep.

Kronk was tossing an asparagus in a coagulation of butter and sizzling lemon, humming merrily in his “Kiss the Chef” apron and 305mm tall pleated white alpaca hat, and an Yzma of much smaller physical presence and lighter colors was meticulously placing sprigs of Cilantro on a row of molé and pinto bean-laden large china plates when the two wood doors to the kitchen swung inwards, and Kuzco walked in flanked by his two guards.  
“Kronk, Yzma, my friends!” he exclaimed, Birkenstock-ed feet planted firmly in a duck-footed stance, “It is of my upmost pleasure to present to you-“ and he pulled out from under his mumu a cloth-covered rectangle and the two large guards clad in blue crisscross-sweaters standing behind him began beating on the drums that they had carried in with them in a rapid, anticipatory melody “-straight from the office of the Patagonia Culinary Committee, and presented by me, his breathtaking royal highness, the Restaurant of the Year award!” and with this whipped the cloth off of the rectangle to reveal it to be a frame encasing the gold and blue-insignia’d and bordered certificate bearing, it was true, the signatures of the Chairs of the Patagonia Culinary Committee.  
“Are. You. Kidding me” said Kronk, setting his frying pan down on the fire again. He looked over to his kitten-companion. “Can you believe it Yzma? The good people of Patagonia think we're the best restraunt this year?"  
At that moment the evil mastermind woman-turned kitten did something she had never, in her 114 years of life, done before. She turned to her large co-Chef and let out a laugh devoid of any malice; a laugh of true happiness. “We’ve done it, Kronk!”  
The man and the kitten hugged, and when they parted, there were tears in Yzma’s eyes.

But how did this all come to happen? The events were these:

On a dark night, Yzma, at this time in her human- well, you’d have to call it human, but Kronk hadn’t ever heard of a person as old as she still living- form, and Kronk were in an adobe room seated at a long table. On the other side was Kuzco, at this time in his younger, more annoying half-llama half-human King form, not the older, post-llama, decent human being, King form. Kuzco’s neck had just lengthened and sprouted auburn fur when Yzma caught Kronk’s attention and began hitting two broccoli’s together.  
“Hit-him-on-the-he-ead” she said. Kronk quirked a very pretty eyebrow and offered up the platter of freshly-steamed broccoli he was holding.  
“More broccoli?”-

-Wait, that part has nothing to do with why Kronk and Yzma are now hugging in a kitchen. Well, not really. Anyways, you’ve all already seen the failed-posining dinner scene; BOR-ING. Let’s move on.

It was approaching 6:00PM Central Standard Time and the sun was beginning to set over the hills, so parents were arriving to pick up their children from Kronk’s outdoor skills-focused Youth Camp. Yzma, who had gone from an honestly terrifying 113-year old woman to a much friendlier-looking grey kitten, obviously didn’t have any parents, and obviously didn’t have any home left considering she didn’t succeed in stealing the huge palace she wanted to live in, so her only place to go to was where Kronk was staying, which she was upset by but Kronk was, naturally, fine with. So after the children had all left, the two of them tromped over the grass to the room Kronk was renting in Pacha’s house. On the way they ran into Pacha himself, who said “Why don’t you guys come over for dinner tonight?”  
“Well I personally would be delighted Pacha!” said Kronk.  
Yzma the kitten said nothing. Kronk gave her a nudge with his foot.  
“Fine,” she said, “I would be delighted to come share a lovely dinner between neighbors with you as well.”  
“Good,” said Kronk, and they followed Pacha in his front door.  
The Youth Camp had been going great. Kronk loved being a leader, if only because he loved spreading the knowledge of the squirrel language with the youth of Patagonia. He believed that while the Patagonia education system had improved much since Kuzco had had his little llama incident and become a more responsible governor of the kingdom, the board still underestimated the value of children learning another language. He believed that the squirrel language was a perfect language to learn, because what could be more important that learning how to communicate with one of the largest populations with which they shared their land? Kronk was a firm believer that communication was integral in leading to a peaceful future with their natural world. But now the summer was ending, and Youth Camp would have to be moved to just the weekends, as the children would be starting school.  
It’s not that Kronk would be bored; he could never be bored, what with the water park on the adjacent hill and all of nature to explore and enjoy. No, it was just that with the Youth Camp Kronk had experienced for the first time the joy of helping people. As Yzma’s right-hand man he had lived a wonderful life, but he now felt like he was happiest when he dedicated himself to a greater cause.  
So on this one evening, once the children had all been picked up by their parents, and he and Yzma had followed Pacha into his kitchen directly after which Kronk joined Pacha’s wife, Chicha at the stovetop to help with the tortilla soup she was making, Kronk had a realization.  
Every night he had accepted Pacha’s invitation to join his family for dinner, Kronk had felt especially happy. It could be the very charming people and simply adorable kids but Kronk believed he owed the particularly high degree of the bliss on the cooking he always did in the kitchen. It was not just cooking for himself, it was cooking for a large group of people. He was able to try out more complex recipes because he was cooking for so many, and he felt like it really helped his creative spirit. That one time Yzma had dragged him into a restaurant and the kind people there had allowed him to act as the chef had been an especially enjoyable afternoon as well.  
So as Kronk helped add chili pepper to the tortilla soup he realized that this, cook, is what he wanted to dedicate his life to.  
“Hey Pacha,” he said to his neighbor.  
“Yes,” said Pacha.  
“Would you happen to have a house you could rent out to me? I want to start a restaurant.”  
“Sure,” said Pacha, who had started quite a lucrative Real Estate business on the side of his new deliveries-management government job. “But you can’t run a restaurant all on your own, you know.”  
“This is true,” said Kronk.  
The table was quiet for a second. The eyes of the whole family eventually fell on Yzma the kitten, adding a sprig of cilantro to her soup.  
“What?” she said.  
Kronk looked at her pleadingly. “I would be honored if you ran a restaurant with me Yzma, as we are the truest of friends.”  
Pacha’s look turned from inquisition to threat.  
“Fine!” said Yzma, with an exasperated look on her face.  
The rest is history.


End file.
